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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24875191">uhh 2 electric boogaloo</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/'>Anonymous</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>how to adopt an archivist in four easy steps [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Age Regression/De-Aging, Bathing/Washing, Breastfeeding, Crying, Hurt/Comfort, LISTEN i am trying to make it work. please be nice to me, Lactation, Non-Sexual Age Play, Omorashi, Other, Wetting, YA CAN'T WRITE JON WITHOUT ANGST I TRIED, aLSO he has adhd. i have decided. adhd archivist rights, british slang is killing me okay, canon-typical jon's guilt about things, complete bullshittery of monster biology, hell yeah we're doing this hsdlkfjasdklf, i guess, my brand......., nappies, self harm in the form of scratching</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 10:20:28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,408</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24875191</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>an accident sends jon spiraling into headspace, which is appropriate, because guess who takes care of him</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Helen | The Distortion &amp; Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood &amp; Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>how to adopt an archivist in four easy steps [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1799917</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>112</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Anonymous</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>uhh 2 electric boogaloo</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>uhh this fic is dedicated to everyone who wrote nice things and kudosed the last fic. thank you for enabling me who knows if the two of them will go together cohesively or not flksdjafkl</p>
<p>also i've decided that this takes place in a weird season three and four hybrid don't think too hard about it okay</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It's getting easier and easier for Jon to lose track of time. To lose track of his still very human biological needs. </p>
<p>See, Jon is changing, but he's changing <em> slowly</em>. Even as his human processes are phased out with decidedly less human ones, he still has things to worry about regarding his body. The need to eat physical food has lessened, but it's still present. He doesn't really need to drink all that often, but sometimes his body nudges him in that direction. </p>
<p>Of course, they're all very much muted, so it's getting to the point that he's rarely aware of them until they're at the point where it <em> hurts</em>. He doesn't know he's hungry for normal food until his stomach pangs are sharp and painful, doesn't know he's thirsty until his throat is raw and scratchy. </p>
<p>All of this is to say that he's totally forgotten that he needs to piss until it's basically too late. </p>
<p>He grits his teeth, bracing his hand on the table as he prepares himself to stand up. He's trying his damnedest to assure himself he'll be fine. <em> I'm an adult</em>, he thinks, even as something soft and whiny nags itself at the corners of his mind, begging to be let in to help him deal with this upsetting predicament. <em> I can hold it until I get to a toilet. I can.  </em></p>
<p>He shifts, starting to put his weight on his feet. A warm jet of urine shoots out of him, wetting his underwear, and he immediately collapses back down on his seat and crosses his legs tightly. He shoves his hands in between his thighs and does his best not to cry. </p>
<p><em> Shit</em>. His breath trembles, and he squeezes his eyes shut, trying to steady himself. He can't stand up. <em> He can't even stand up. </em> What the fuck is he supposed to do, then? </p>
<p>Despite his attempts to calm himself, his thoughts start to spin out of his control, <em> what if Melanie sees him? What about Basira? Martin? Elias? Oh, Elias probably already knows, what if he comes down here and does something about it? What would he do to me? What if he— </em></p>
<p>He barely even notices that he's started to leak again until he hears the sound of a door creaking open, feels the puddle forming in his seat. He decides to deal with the door first, wondering who's here to witness his humiliation, turning his gaze over to the source of the sound. </p>
<p>Oh. It isn't the archives door that's hanging slightly ajar behind him. </p>
<p>He's not sure what exactly compels him to shove himself to his feet, stumbling as a damp trickle snakes its way down his thighs. He pushes his way through into the dizzying halls of the Distortion, collapsing against the wall with a sob as his bladder unfortunately gives in. </p>
<p>The relief that washes through him mingles with the shame of it all, and tears stream down his cheeks in tandem with the piss streaming down his legs. His shoulders tremble and jolt as he cries softly, and it's not until he's finally empty that he's able to get himself under control, rubbing the tears and snot away with his forearm. </p>
<p>For a moment, it's quiet, no one else present in the hallways. It's a relief that only lasts for a moment, but he supposes he should've expected that she'd arrive sooner or later. </p>
<p>"Oh, Archivist. You didn't really come in here just to wet yourself in my halls, did you?" </p>
<p>Helen's voice is teasing, even fond. She does not sound upset at all about the situation, in fact, she sounds downright pleased. Jon flushes, and he tries to steady himself on his feet. </p>
<p>"I..." he starts to say, trying to explain himself anyway, but he quickly finds that he can't. He shuts his mouth and trembles, looking down at the mess he's made of his trousers. </p>
<p>He...peed himself. Like a child. In the halls of a fear entity who once tried to kill him. Oh god. </p>
<p>The full force of what's happened finally hits him, and he tears up all over again. The smallness rubs at the back of his brain once more, and he lets himself fall into it, unsure if he'll be able to deal with the knotting in his stomach otherwise. He feels so tiny, uncomfortable in his wet pants and humiliated by his lack of self control. He starts to cry again in earnest, wrapping his arms around himself and clawing at his skin, trying to scratch himself raw. <em> Stupid, pathetic little baby.  </em></p>
<p>"S-sorry," he stutters out, mumbling through his tears. Then, a little louder: "S-s-sorry!" </p>
<p>Helen strolls over to him, kneeling down in front of him and holding out her hands to him. "Oh, Archivist, it's alright. You haven't done anything wrong." She tilts her head at him and smiles, and it somehow manages to not be unsettling. "Would you like some help, dear?" </p>
<p>He doesn't hesitate as much as he probably should have, only pausing for a moment before grabbing onto her scary long hands. She smiles, drawing him into her arms and scooping him up, and he can't help but bury his face into her neck, weeping softly against her shoulder. </p>
<p>"Poor baby," Helen croons, carrying him away from the puddle he's made. "So wet...so <em> tired</em>..." </p>
<p>He barely hears her, too busy entangling his fists in the fabric of her shirt and sobbing softly into her skin. His teeth find purchase on her shirt collar, and he finds himself chewing on it, letting it soothe him as she takes him through corridor after corridor. He doesn't even bother to wonder where she's going, his unconscious mind trusting her to take care of it. To take care of everything.</p>
<p>Eventually, they reach a room bleeding warm yellow light, unlike the sharp brightness of the yellow of the hallways. There's the sound of a faucet running, the odd sensation of the world moving around him, and the air against his bare skin. Then, suddenly, he's in what he's pretty sure is warm water, surrounded by fluffy pink bubbles. </p>
<p>...this <em> is </em> water, right? It has a bit of a bitter smell, but it feels fine against his skin, if a bit more viscous than usual. </p>
<p>It's also tinged slightly green. Perhaps it isn't water. Jon isn't in the right headspace to worry about it, though. </p>
<p>He looks at the surface of it, pushing the pink tinted suds away, and he finds he can see himself in it. He looks so tired and sad, and he pushes the bubbles back over his reflection so he doesn't have to face it anymore. He looks up at Helen helplessly, unsure of what to do, and she smiles sweetly down at him and claps her hands. </p>
<p>"There you go, look at you in the tub. Mama's gonna take good care of you!" she croons, tapping him on the nose. </p>
<p>He blinks, and something in his chest swells painfully. <em> Mama. Mama. Mama. </em> He sinks into the not-actually-water with a whimper, his eyes turning a bit wet. It's been a while since he's had a Mama, hasn't it? The idea of having one is so nice. Is that what Helen is to him now? </p>
<p>"Mama," he finds himself saying, too enraptured with the idea to properly think it through. </p>
<p>Helen coos at him again, running her fingers through his hair. "Yes, that's right! You're so good!" she praises, her eyes shining. </p>
<p>If she's this happy, Jon has to have made the right choice. He can't help but be pleased with the affection, and he sinks into her hand, letting his eyes drift closed. She pets his hair for a little longer, before drawing away and starting to wash him down. Her hands are odd, inhuman and confusing but oh, so gentle, and despite how foreign they feel Jon continues to relax as he leans into her touch. </p>
<p>Eventually, the hands leave his body, and whatever he's sitting in starts to drain around him. He's scooped up again, and wrapped in something that's far too warm and fluffy to be from the Spiral's domain. </p>
<p>It's almost enough to snap him out of his headspace and wonder just what the fuck he's doing here. Almost. </p>
<p>But then Helen takes him into a new room, all green fuzzy carpet and warm yellow walls dotted with pink spirals, filled with white furniture that belongs more in a nursery than in the living manifestation of madness. It should be garish and off-putting but it somehow manages to be weirdly homey, and he finds himself being lulled back into a sense of security at the sight of it. </p>
<p>Helen sits in a rocking chair in the center of the room, settling him in her lap. She drapes a blanket over the both of them, and Jon nuzzles into her chest tiredly. </p>
<p>"Are you hungry, darling?" </p>
<p>Jon lifts his head, thinking about it for a moment. He does feel a bit hungry, his tummy aching with the thought of food. He whines, looks up at her expectantly, silently asking her to take care of it, to shoo away his hunger and make him feel okay again. </p>
<p>Helen shushes him easily, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "It's alright, Archivist. I'll take care of you," she promises, before moving to unbutton her shirt. </p>
<p>Jon straightens up at that. The memories of last time she fed him flood his thoughts, and he starts to drool a little, whimpering impatiently as she finishes her breast out of her shirt. He doesn't hesitate this time before latching onto her teat, and again her fingers run through his hair as he suckles eagerly. </p>
<p>This time, though. This time she rocks him, taking full advantage of the chair she's sitting in, swaying back and forth in a soothing rhythm that makes his eyes droop and his chest warm. </p>
<p>He's never felt more content. He's never felt more comforted. It's so nice. </p>
<p>Just like last time, he drinks until his tummy is full. Once he's done, he lets his head fall back, dropping it against her forearm and nuzzling into the crook of her elbow. His eyelids droop, and he sighs through his nose, moving his fingers towards his mouth. </p>
<p>He's intercepted by Helen slipping something round and plasticy between his lips. Even through his fuzzy haze, he knows exactly what it is, and he lets out a contented hum as he suckles rhythmically on his pacifier, starting to drift off. </p>
<p>Helen presses her lips to the bridge of his nose, and all he can remember is the feeling of being loved as he finally slips into dreamland. </p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>When Jon wakes up, he's surrounded by soft blankets and plush animals, bordered on all sides by white bars. He looks up to see a cutesy mobile idly turning above him, and huffs through his nose, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He grunts, sitting up and stretching his arms out in front of him. </p>
<p>Right. Okay. He's still in the Distortion. In a crib. </p>
<p>...what is Helen playing at here? </p>
<p>He shifts, only to realize the wetness around his crotch. He lifts the blanket to find himself in a teal onesie, the fabric around his lower half bulging out slightly, and his cheeks heat up when he realizes what it is. </p>
<p><em> Goddammit</em>. He's not sure what is worse, the fact that he'd been put in a nappy, or the fact that he ended up needing it. He flops over on his tummy and buries his face into the pillow, the pacifier being the only thing keeping him from screaming as loud as he possibly can into it. </p>
<p>"Archivist? My love?" Helen's voice rings out through the room, and Jon squeezes his eyes shut, deciding to pretend to be asleep. </p>
<p>He doesn't want to face her after everything. He let her <em> bathe </em> him for Christ's sake. </p>
<p>"Archivist, I know you're awake. You do understand you're in my domain, don't you?" </p>
<p>Jon whines, curling into a tight ball. Shit. He pulls the pacifier out of his mouth and mumbles a soft, petulant, "Go 'way" in her direction. </p>
<p>Helen doesn't leave, however, coming over to the side of the crib. She rubs his back with her long fingers, and he whimpers, begrudgingly putting the paci back in and pushing his face into the soft pillow. </p>
<p>"Do you need a change, dear?" she coos, rubbing little circles against his spine. </p>
<p>Jon grunts, his ears growing hot. It would be nice to get out of this wet nappy. He rolls over onto his back again, feeling tired and resigned. </p>
<p>Helen smiles at him oddly softly for an avatar of the Spiral. She coos, picking up a white cat plushy and tucking it into his arms. </p>
<p>"There he is. There's my sweet boy," she murmurs, brushing a strand of his hair behind his ear. "Come here, baby, let's get you cleaned up." </p>
<p>He doesn't fight her as she picks him up, nuzzling his face into the stuffy in his arms. He still feels a bit small, his brain drifting back and forth between headspaces. He's adult enough to know this is weird, to know that he should be embarrassed, but his baby brain is still present enough to enjoy the attention, soaking it up eagerly. </p>
<p>She takes him over to a changing table and lays him down on it, and he does his best not to think too much about what she's doing down there. Instead, he directs his attention to his cat plush, childishly deciding that it needs a name. Snowflake, maybe? It's a bit basic, but it kinda fits her, doesn't it? </p>
<p>Helen tapes him into a new nappy, and he briefly debates protesting this before deciding he still likes having it on, even if he feels too adult for it. He looks up at her, pulls the pacifier out of his mouth and says, "I want to go back to the Archives." </p>
<p>Helen hums, buttoning the snaps on his onesie. "Alright, darling," she says, scooping him up and pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Do you want to change into big boy clothes, too?" </p>
<p>Jon flushes, knocking his head against Helen's shoulder. "N-no...it's fine," he mumbles. "C-can I just have my trousers or something? If they're clean?" </p>
<p>Helen's eyes light up, and his face feels even warmer. She sets him down on the ground and pats his head, saying, "Of course, dear. I took care of it while you were resting. Do you want to wait here while I bring it to you?" </p>
<p>Jon breathes in slowly, clutching Snowflake tighter to his chest. "Yeah...yeah, that's fine." </p>
<p>"Alright, dear." </p>
<p>She leaves him alone in the room, and he takes another look around, taking in the sight of it. There's the crib and the changing table, of course, on opposite ends of the room, and the rocking chair in the center. There's a white bookshelf and a play mat covered in toys as well, along with a toy box and a high chair, and looking at all of it makes Jon want to melt back into a tiny little puddle of himself. He kind of wishes he hadn't asked to go back so hastily. </p>
<p>But then he shakes himself. No. He can't—this place is dangerous, right? And besides, he can't just abandon everyone. Martin, Basira, Melanie...it wouldn't be fair to just disappear again. </p>
<p>"Hello, Archivist!" </p>
<p>Jon lifts his head as Helen returns, sagging in relief as she holds his clothes in her hand. He fiddles with the pacifier in his grasp, before slipping it back in his mouth and holding out his free hand. </p>
<p>"Do you want me to hold your kitten while you get dressed, love?" </p>
<p>He hesitates, before nodding and handing Snowflake over. He presses a kiss to her head first, though, and Helen coos at him for his troubles. </p>
<p>He tries not to think about it too much. He busies himself with pulling on his pants, assessing whether or not the nappy is visible through his clothes. It's...mostly hidden, he thinks. No one who isn't looking for it would notice. </p>
<p>Helen had also brought him his hoodie, so he slips that on as well. He takes his pacifier out of his mouth and tucks it into his pocket, and then holds his arms out to receive Snowflake again. </p>
<p>"Are you going to take it with you?" she asks kindly, and he shivers a little. </p>
<p>"Her," he says, grabbing Snowflake and holding her close. "A-and yes, I suppose. If that's okay." </p>
<p>"Oh! I'm sorry. Of course you can have her, dear," she says. "That's absolutely okay. You can take that pacifier you have with you too, if you'd like." </p>
<p>Jon feels his ears burn, and he mumbles a soft, "Thank you." He shuffles his feet, and then asks, "Why are you doing this?" </p>
<p>"Doing what, Archivist?" </p>
<p>"I think you know," he says, though his voice is quiet. "I just...don't understand what you're getting out of this." </p>
<p>Helen hums, not seeming too keen on answering. Jon sighs, running his fingers through his hair. </p>
<p>"How did you even know I was...?" He coughs, hoping that she knows what he's alluding to, too embarrassed to say it himself. </p>
<p>She smiles, tilting her head at him. "Well, it was just luck this time," she says sweetly. "Though I have been keeping an eye on you, love." </p>
<p>"Well that's reassuring," he mumbles. </p>
<p>"It is, isn't it?" </p>
<p>Helen continues to smile, her face placid. It's not as eerie as it should be, which is what's really starting to bother Jon about it. She takes a step closer, and he can't find it in himself to flinch. </p>
<p>"It's not like I'm the only avatar watching you right now," she says, and he laughs, his shoulders shaking a little. </p>
<p>"Are you talking about Elias?" he asks weakly. He sighs, playing with one of Snowflake's ears. "I guess I do prefer your surveillance over his..." </p>
<p>Ugh. Is this what it's come to? He grimaces, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot. "Can I go now? I-I need...I need to see everyone again, make sure they're okay..." </p>
<p>"Oh, of course! I'll help you out of here." </p>
<p>"Thank you..." </p>
<p>She offers her hand, and once again, he takes it with not nearly enough hesitation, clinging to her fingers with his own tiny ones. As they walk through the halls, he's surprised to find that he can see his actual reflection in the mirrors. He pauses, turning to look at himself, making Helen stop with him. </p>
<p>Embarrassingly, it's only then that he notices the white, curvy lettering on the front of the onesie. <em> Little Prince</em>. Jon turns to Helen and gives her an accusing stare, clutching Snowflake to his chest in a half-hearted attempt to cover it up. Really, he could just zip up his hoodie, but...</p>
<p>Well, he doesn't know what's stopping him, really. </p>
<p>Helen smiles, ever so kindly, and he pouts harder at her as if that'll force her to apologize. It doesn't, of course, she just looks even more fond. </p>
<p>"Is that not what you are?" she asks, bringing his hand to her lips. "Mummy's little prince?" </p>
<p>Fuck. He did call her Mama, didn't he? He can't help but whine petulantly, stomping away from the mirrors. </p>
<p>"Just take me to the archives," he says, trying to sound stern, but coming off more bratty than anything. </p>
<p>Helen chuckles, and they continue their walk until they reach a door. Jon turns to her, suddenly fidgety and nervous. Why, he doesn't know. Maybe he's just flustered at the thought of leaving with a nappy still on. </p>
<p>"Archivist," Helen says, and damn, she's good at that maternal edge. "You don't have to leave if you don't want to." </p>
<p>Jon shifts, considering for a moment. But he still shakes his head. "I wanna make sure they're okay," he mumbles, letting go of Helen's hand. He squeezes Snowflake tightly. </p>
<p>"Well, alright, love. I'm here if you need me." </p>
<p>"Yeah..." </p>
<p>Jon pauses for another long, considering moment, before exiting into the archives.</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>The chair and the floor are clean. </p>
<p>It's weird that it makes him panic, but if they're clean, then that means someone <em> knows</em>. Someone cleaned <em> his </em> urine off the ground. Off of his seat. They're gonna know it was him. </p>
<p>"Jon?" </p>
<p>Jon jumps, clinging tightly to Snowflake as his heart races. He sees Martin staring at him with relief and confusion, and Jon sighs, trying to get his breathing down to a normal level. </p>
<p>"H-hi," he stammers, suddenly feeling <em> very </em> self conscious. He really should've zipped up his hoodie. "Hi Martin, hi..." </p>
<p>Martin tilts his head, looking him over, taking him in. He gives him an awkward smile, running a hand through his hair. </p>
<p>"Uh, hi to you too, Jon! I-it's nice to see you. You've been gone for a while," he says, somewhat nervously. "I cleaned up while you were gone! I...I'm sure you noticed, I hope that's alright...I hope you didn't run because you were embarrassed, happens to the best of us, really! I mean, I don't really know where you went off to, I just...I didn't even see you leave...not that you need to tell us when you go! You are an adult, after all, I just...I worry, I guess. Uh..." He breaks in his nervous rambling to point at the stuffy in Jon's arms. "Who's this?" </p>
<p>"S-Snowflake," Jon answers, trying to take all of that in. "Her name is Snowflake. Y-you were the one who...?" </p>
<p>"Who cleaned up in here? Yeah..." Martin hesitates, and then takes a few steps closer. "Jon, it's...it's okay, y'know? I'm sure it was an accident, no one can be mad at you for that." </p>
<p>God, he just sounds so <em> sincere</em>. Jon finds himself tearing up suddenly, much to Martin's alarm. </p>
<p>"Jon?! H-hey, no no no, no need for tears, it's alright!" Martin's hands fly around helplessly, before one of them lands on Jon's arm. </p>
<p>Well, that definitely does...something. Perhaps Jon isn't quite as out of his headspace as he'd originally thought, because the next he knows, he's throwing himself into Martin's chest, closing the gap between them. He cries quietly into the front of his jumper, feeling kind of silly about it, but Martin to his credit takes it mostly in stride, wrapping his arms around him and holding him tightly.</p>
<p>"Jesus Jon...it's okay, really..." he murmurs, raking his fingers through his hair. "Did something happen to you? Are you alright?" </p>
<p>Jon nods, because it's the honest truth. What happened with Helen was weird, certainly, but this is more due to his remaining smallness than anything, leaving his emotions on vulnerable shaky legs. He kind of feels guilty for taking it out on Martin, because he's already had to deal with his piss for Christ's sake. He shouldn't have to deal with his dumb baby tears too. </p>
<p>"Okay..." Martin whispers, sounding uncertain. "If you say so..." </p>
<p>Jon hiccups, making a particularly unpleasant sobbing noise, and Martin immediately turns to coos. </p>
<p>"Oh, you poor thing. It's alright, I'm here. You're alright. Just let it out," he says, and Jon suddenly, <em> violently</em>, has to resist the urge to whisper <em> Daddy </em>into his chest. For a brief, terrible moment, he wants to ask Martin to take care of him, now and forever. </p>
<p>He looks up at him, sniffling softly. Soft, kind Martin, who's always tried to look after him, even when he was being the most horrid person in the world. It's unfair to want anything from him, especially now, after the absolute hell he's gone through. All because of him. </p>
<p>Martin smiles down at him, softly, cupping his face in his palms. "Hey there," he says softly, wiping his tears away with his thumbs. "Are you—" </p>
<p>"I'm sorry," Jon interrupts, his grip on Snowflake tightening desperately. "For everything. I'm sorry I was mean to you." </p>
<p>Martin blinks, taken aback. "It's alr—" </p>
<p>"It's not." Jon's skin buzzes and his breath hitches. He tries his best to ignore it. "I'm sorry. You didn't deserve it." </p>
<p>Martin bites his lip, considering. His hands don't leave Jon's cheeks. "Okay," he says softly, looking distinctly uncomfortable. "Um, thank you. And I forgive you." </p>
<p>They fall into a nervous silence, and Jon turns his eyes to the floor. He bites his lip, tilting his head into one of Martin's hands. "Okay," he says. "Um...thank you. Also. For everything." </p>
<p>"Oh! You're welcome," Martin says, brightening a bit. "Um...are you feeling any better?" </p>
<p>Jon shifts on his feet, nuzzling into his palm. A wave of dizziness suddenly hits him, and he groans softly, squeezing his eyes shut. </p>
<p>"Y-yeah, I'm...I think I need a statement, but other than that..." </p>
<p>"Ah, alright. Do you want me to help you to your desk?" </p>
<p>Jon nods shakily. He hadn't noticed the other hunger steadily growing while he was with Helen, which is certainly...interesting. Concerning, perhaps, but right now he can't really focus on anything other than his growing need and lethargy. </p>
<p>Martin sits him at his desk, and Jon settles Snowflake in his lap, petting her idly. Martin brings him over a statement and a tape recorder, before patting his shoulder and giving him a small smile. </p>
<p>"I like your shirt, by the way," he says warmly, his cheeks a bit red. "It's very cute." </p>
<p>Jon feels his own face heat up, suddenly well aware of the fact he's wearing both a onesie and a nappy right now. He debates with himself, wrestling with the idea of telling Martin, <em> Maybe he can help him.  </em></p>
<p>"Thank you," he says, ultimately deciding not to say anything about it. Sure, he seems to be okay with the childish words on his chest, but that doesn't necessarily mean he wouldn't be uncomfortable with the fact that he's essentially dressed like an oversized baby (that he <em> is</em>, essentially, an oversized baby). </p>
<p>Martin smiles fondly, and it kind of makes Jon regret his decision. He squeezes his shoulder again, and then gestures down to Snowflake. </p>
<p>"I'll leave you two to it, then," he says, heading for the exit. He pauses at the door, looking at Jon with a gentle gaze. "Call for me if you need me." </p>
<p>He leaves, the door shutting behind him with a click. Jon sits there for a moment, trying to process the interaction, before sighing and starting to record.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>this is a self indulgent series about the archivist getting babied it's okay if there's minor plotholes, i cry, not really believing it </p>
<p>also hi i'm legit mad this got to four thousand words i did NOT mean to put that much effort into this. wtf</p></blockquote></div></div>
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